


Dead Sands

by Lortan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Exploring Ruins, I hope the goblin seems like enough of a bastard, I'm actually kinda proud of this one, Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft The Nameless City, Meaning that no one will read it, Other, Probably Fae, When is something I write not Fae?, because let's face it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:13:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24467764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lortan/pseuds/Lortan
Summary: Beneath him, beneath the shifting sand, he could see the slightest signs of engravings, rubbed out by time and…. footprints, maybe. He wasn't sure, but it looked like there had been footprints stamped into this ancient rock, certain areas worn smoother than others. Where it wasn't worn smooth, he could see phases of the moon carved into the rock, some of the most precise and exquisite workmanship he had ever seen. It looked better than even goblin, maybe."Awesome….!" He heard someone breathe reverently behind him, and he let himself smile.It was.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Dead Sands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lyrae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrae/gifts).



> A more finished, polished version of something I wrote for a competition a while ago. Finally posted here in a desperate attempt to thank Lyrae for the adorable image of Fae!Sherlock that she has blessed me with.
> 
> Enjoy reading!

The ruins were a little unlike anything Bill had ever seen. They stretched, almost flat and half covered in sand, away from him in every direction, the faint breezes and the scuffling of the others who had portkeyed in with him the only sounds to haunt this forgotten place.

Beneath him, beneath the shifting sand, he could see the slightest signs of engravings, rubbed out by time and…. footprints, maybe. He wasn't sure, but it looked like there had been footprints stamped into this ancient rock, certain areas worn smoother than others. Where it wasn't worn smooth, he could see phases of the moon carved into the rock, some of the most precise and exquisite workmanship he had ever seen. It looked better than even goblin, maybe.

" _ Awesome… _ .!" He heard someone breathe reverently behind him, and he let himself smile. 

It was.

He couldn't wait to explore.

xXx

The curses were a little unlike anything he had encountered previous, too. If they could be called that. They felt more like enchantments, compelling him to do things rather than immediately causing harm. Before they had stepped off the platform they'd arrived on, he'd felt the near uncontrollable urge to dance. He'd felt it several places since, and he figured that solved the question of the smooth areas. Whatever culture this unlooted crypt had belonged to, it had evidently been fond of dancing.

Other spots, he wanted to turn back, or felt crushing unease. The single goblin had somehow found one that made him believe that he was dressed in rich clothing and jewels, and everyone else was trying to take them from him. It had taken forever to solve that problem. By the time they did, it was getting dark, and the wind was picking up.

_ Sandstorm _ .

Bill found a relatively unenchanted structure dug into the rock beneath the sand, and they all climbed down into it, finding themselves in a dugout hollow that might have resembled the great hall at Hogwarts if it had been in better condition. As it was, stalactites had formed on the ceiling from long gone water, and sand coated the floor, like it did everything else here. A few shapes remained that suggested former glory, however. Against one wall, a chunk of rock sat, hewn into the shape of what was likely a throne, with a sloping back and elaborate etchings that none of them could make sense of. Separate tunnels split off from the room, marked by archways with more decorative etchings, nonsensical shapes and animals mixed with flowers and swirling patterns, what looked like a phase of the moon once more engraved along the top of every arch. A vote decided to hold off on exploring them for the night, and to simply set up for a night's rest.

Spots of the ground bore stalagmites matching the ceiling, but some areas were relatively free. None of them were particularly big, so instead of starting a nice big fire and putting up bedspreads around it, smaller fires were lit, barely bigger than the flames produced by ten candles, and everyone formed huddles. The goblin took a spot away from the rest, of course, and a spot far too big for him to boot. This left Bill with few remaining spots to take, as any that were big enough to share were already full.

In the end, he took a spot closer to the entrance. It was the only spot big enough for him, and also, the loudest. He set up a bed just out of the sandiest area, so that hopefully not too much would fly in onto him during the storm that was already roaring outside. As he lay down to sleep, surrounded by dust and stalagmites, he thought for a moment that he could hear music. But when he looked around, he saw only the other people he had come with, and none of them had out any instrument to play.

Still, as he put his head back into the pillow, he could have sworn he heard flutes and drums something similar to a violin, mixed into the hiss and shriek and growl of the sandstorm outside.

xXx

During the night, Bill had the most peculiar dream. He dreamed with the utmost clarity, of waking up and blinking sleep from his eyes, only to see someone, or something, standing over him. The form had leaned closer, slowly and laboriously, until in the dying, sputtering light of what remained of their pathetic fires, he could see it.

Skin the texture and colour of sand, adorned by leaves formed of the same material. Hair of sand, shedding it onto his blanket. Eyes of it, soulless like a statue's, but moving, as the sand tumbled over its surface like when the wind touched a dune. Bill watched as a chunk seemingly came loose, detaching from the creature's eye like a rock leaving a mountainside, dropping down and hitting him in the arm. But he didn't take his eyes off of the creature, watching as more sand swirled into its place, and its mouth opened, exposing a maw that was a mixture of what looked like petrified flesh and sand, teeth half decayed by time.

It shrieked at him, a sound as devastating as the storm outside, and sand tumbled from its mouth as it stared at him in despair, hitting his face like drops of hail. He had a flickering feeling, suddenly, almost like a flashback, as imagery shot into his mind to accompany the screaming that echoed emptily in his ears.

_ Pools of clear water, inhabited by green men and woman with long choppy hair and shuddering gills. _

_ Grass green and lush, crawling with insects and tiny, tiny people with moth wings and beetle shells and hundreds of eyes. _

_ Creatures bigger than trolls, unfolding from the softly rolling hills and leaving them half the size that they had appeared. _

_ Animals with skeletal bent backs and long snouts and manes so shaggy they dragged the forest floor, so tall they were tripping over trees on their stilt-like hooves. _

_ Children with wings and painted faces and old, old eyes, flitting in the air and spreading glittering dust in the wind. _

_ Gardens full of walking plants with skinny limbs and sweet faces, tendrils like pumpkin vines spilling down from their flower laden heads. _

He saw a world bursting with life, with  _ everything. _ Flat buildings carved from rock and inlaid with precious metals and stones, cobbled streets and dirt paths worn flat with constant dancing, ancient magicks singing through the air so richly he felt he could have suffocated from it, could have inhaled it like water and drowned in the sheer intensity of it as it seeped into his every pore with such a ringing of euphoria he wouldn't have heard anything else.

The creature had stopped screaming, but now he wanted to. The disappearance of all that magic, encasing and eclipsing him, like a burning sun he would happily dive into, burned him from the inside out.

Instead, he watched it as it turned and silently slunk away into one of the tunnels, dropping and absorbing new sand as it went, defeated and destroyed, a mere ghost of some long forgotten past.

xXx

When he woke up the next morning to the beginning life of his fellow curse breakers and adventurers, the cacophony of yawn and groans and whispered spells as they put up beds and started breakfast, the sandstorm outside had stopped raging, now just the faintest whistle of the wind slipping to him alone.

And with it, the faraway, millennia old, dead sounds of a revel in paradise.

**Author's Note:**

> I apparently just don't believe in definative endings, or something, because I always just leave them open. Oh well.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments would be appreciated, but in their absence I'll just munch on what remains of my marbles instead. Mm, glass, yummy.... I hope you have a luverly day! Byeeeeeeee!


End file.
